Broken and Mended
by GlassBelle
Summary: After an argument, Katniss and Peeta reconcile, resulting in a progression of their relationship. Post-"Real", pre-epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _The Hunger Games_ storylines, characters and settings are not mine.

 **Note:** There will be lemons. Please read at your discretion.

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 **Broken and Mended**

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It was a bad night. After only a couple hours of sleep, I woke up screaming. This, as always, woke Peeta and he did his best to comfort me but the nightmare just wouldn't go away. It would not get out of my head. I kept seeing things…those horrible things…every time I shut my eyes, so I went downstairs. Peeta offered to come with me, but I told him he didn't need to; just stay in bed.

I looked at the memory book for a while, did some cleaning in the kitchen, then paced around until my eyes were burning so much I couldn't keep them open any longer. That's when I returned to the bedroom and laid down. Peeta was still awake, or woke up again when I got in our bed. He pulled me in close, wrapping his arms around me. I nestled my head against his chest and squeezed my eyes shut until they started to ache, at which point I relaxed them. Sleep came eventually, but it was interrupted again before dawn. This nightmare was of a different variety: the kind that makes me wake up crying instead of screaming.

Again, Peeta tried to comfort me and did succeed in making me feel a little better. But only a few minutes after waking this time, I pulled away from him.

"I'm going out," I said.

Peeta looked at me incredulously, then glanced over at the bedroom window. "It's pitch dark out."

"I'll walk slow. It'll be light enough to hunt by the time I get to the woods."

He frowned. "You look really tired -"

"Thanks."

With a soft sigh, Peeta said, "I mean, are you sure you're up for this?"

"I have to do something," I snapped. Dejectedly, he looked away from me, down at the bed in front of him. I shook off the guilt and forced myself to sound kinder as I added, "I need to clear my head. It'll make me feel _better_. I'll be home before you leave, okay?" I took some clothes out of my dresser and hugged them to my chest, then turned toward Peeta again.

He gave a small nod. "Okay. See you in a while."

I made my way into the bathroom and got ready, then went downstairs, collecting my hunting supplies. Peeta, I guess, was still upstairs in the bedroom when I left.

I'm in the woods now, having a hard time concentrating. When I hear rustling, I can't seem to turn my head fast enough to spot the animal that caused it. When I do get one in my sights, I'm unable to get the arrow notched in time. Peeta was right. I'm really not up for this. Why does he have to be right all the time?

I decide to give up on hunting and just take a walk. I sling my weapon and game bag over my shoulder and make my way to the stream. I consider trying to get some fish but don't even have the energy for that. I take deep, calming breaths as I walk along the stream, and try _not_ to think of the stream in the Games. The blood smears on the rocks, finding Peeta half-dead.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest and rub a hand over it until it fades. I look around at the colorful autumn leaves and try to enjoy how lovely the woods are this time of year. Without giving it much thought, I head toward a tall tree I know of. It has tons of branches and is perfect for climbing. I realize I haven't foraged in the trees much since my return to Twelve. Peeta and I have plenty of food these days and I guess I just haven't felt like it.

But now, I think it might be fun to do some climbing. If I get high enough, I can clear the tops of the other trees in the area and will probably be able to see quite a distance. I hang the strap of my game bag, along with my bow and arrows, off the end of a low branch, then begin to climb.

There are a couple times when I hear a branch creak unsettlingly and rush to move off it. None of them break, but I can tell my reflexes aren't as good as they used to be when I did this all the time. Still, I manage to get about forty feet up without incident, and I decide this is high enough.

I was right to do this; the view is beautiful. Shades of red, orange and yellow are everywhere. It's a cloudy, breezy day but also peaceful. The wind sounds nice as it whistles around leaves and branches. I breathe in cool air, letting it out slowly, and am smiling a little as I look around, listen to the birds, and allow myself to feel calm and safe. The monsters in my nightmares cannot reach me up here.

I don't know how long I spend in the tree, but it's not until my legs are starting to cramp, from being bent in a way they're not used to, that I decide to start climbing down. I sit on a big branch, stretching my legs and flexing my ankles, then begin my descent.

I don't exactly know how it happens; probably just me being foolish and sluggish, but when I'm about fifteen feet off the ground I slip or lean in the wrong way or something. As I fall, I'm seized with terror. I grab frantically at the branches around me and manage to slow my fall, but can't get a good enough grip to stay in the tree. I crash to the ground, landing painfully on my right ankle, and fall forward, onto a big rock that digs into my shin and will probably cause an ugly bruise.

I cry out in pain, then clap a hand over my mouth and look around, just to make sure I haven't attracted any unwanted attention from predators. After a few moments of silence, I lower my head to my hands.

I feel like crying. I feel like an idiot. I grit my teeth together and turn myself so I can take a look at my ankle. Just shifting it hurts, but fortunately it looks normal. No bones poking out.

Leaning against the tree, I manage to force myself to my feet, but it kills to put pressure on my right leg. Fleetingly, I wish I had some way to contact Peeta. If only there were a phone in this tree. If only we could communicate telepathically. If only I'd asked him to come with me this morning for a walk, instead of stubbornly planning to hunt alone. If he was here he'd carry me home. Or he would have caught me when I fell out of the tree. Or talked me out of climbing it when I'm so worn out.

I get my things off the low branch and then yank it down and break it apart so it's the right height to be a walking stick. I lean on it, digging up my palm, and limp all the way home, wincing and whispering profanities every time I accidentally put too much weight on the bad leg.

Finally, I reach my house and push open the back door, tossing my walking stick to the ground before I go inside. Peeta's there in the kitchen, standing at the stove. At first, he greets me with a smile, but he quickly realizes something's wrong.

"What happened?" he says. He turns off the stove and rushes toward me, gently taking me in his arms to help me balance.

"I fell," I say, looking up at him.

 _I told you so_ is written all over his face, but at least he doesn't say it out loud, doesn't remind me that he knew going out would be a bad idea when I was so weary and upset. "How'd you fall?"

"I'm clumsy."

He smirks. "You are not. But anyone could be if they'd barely slept."

I lean a little weight on the hurt ankle, experimenting again, and whimper with pain.

"It's that bad?" Peeta asks, his eyes widening.

He lets go of me and bends down, then pulls up my pant leg. "There's nothing to see," I tell him. "I just twisted it a little. It'll be fine in a few days." _I hope_.

Peeta sighs and shakes his head. "Katniss." His voice is unabashedly chastising. In spite of what I said about there being nothing to see, he lifts the fabric higher, all the way up to my knee, and gasps.

I look down and see that a big part of my shin is turning yellowish-green from hitting that rock, and there's a bloody scrape that looks worse than it feels. "How'd _this_ happen?"

"Same fall," I say casually. "It looks worse than it feels."

"What, you just tripped and fell?" Peeta is incredulous.

"I should clean the cut," I say, annoyed with his tone of voice.

I take a step away from him and groan with pain. Before I know what's happening, Peeta's scooped me up in his arms and is carrying me to the downstairs bathroom. He sets me down on the closed toilet seat, then begins rummaging through the medicine cabinet.

"The antiseptic isn't in there -" I start to tell him.

He turns toward me, looking worried mostly, but angry, too. "There's something you're not telling me."

He knows me too well. At the moment, it makes me uncomfortable. I stare down at my bruise and cut.

"Katniss." He doesn't yell, but somehow his voice grates as if he had.

"I fell out of a tree," I say slowly.

Peeta bends down and I can feel his stare boring in to me, so I shift my gaze to meet it. "How far did you fall?"

"Can you please just get me the medicine from the closet? I put it on the second shelf."

Peeta hurries away and is back in seconds, bottle and gauze in his hands. He pours some of the antiseptic on the cloth and says, "Were you _trying_ to hurt yourself?"

When he reaches out to treat my wound, I flinch back. In a tone of voice that comes out far icier that I'd intended, I say, "I can do it myself."

Peeta cringes, almost imperceptibly, and sets the bottle down. He gives me the gauze, careful to avoid touching his hand to mine, and says, "Fine."

Then he stands up, turns and leaves the bathroom. I hear him walk away, through the hall, and then I think he goes upstairs.

My bottom lip quivers and I blink back tears. _Why did I do that?_ He loves me and he was trying to help me. So what if he was mad at me for getting hurt? I deserved it. I was foolish and careless. He was only upset because he knows that falling out of a tree can cause far worse wounds than the ones I've got. After everything we've been through, I can understand why he would be afraid for my safety. Sometimes it's hard for _me_ to remember we're safe now, too. Sometimes I worry about him when there's no reason. It must have been awful for him, seeing me limp in and act like what happened is no big deal. Maybe he thinks I don't even care whether I live or die.

But I _do_ care. There was a time when things were bad… _very_ bad…right after I came back to Twelve. But I'm getting better. I've improved a lot since then. This life we have - without Prim, without my mother and Gale - isn't what I would have chosen. I wish Prim were here; I miss and mourn her every day. And if she were here, I think my mother would be too. I wish Gale had never kissed me, never told me he loved me. Then maybe we could have stayed friends.

Things are so far from ideal, it's almost laughable. But this is the life I have and I _want_ it. I would rather be here, with Peeta, than dead. Sometimes he makes me feel happy. Makes me smile, makes me laugh. I don't know what I would do without him. It's been over a year since he came back here, to Twelve. Eight months since he moved in with me, two months since we first had sex. Two months since he asked me if I loved him and I agreed that I did. Neither of us have used the word _love_ since that night, but we've been having sex a couple nights a week ever since that first time.

It's always pretty much the same. The room is dark, we kiss, I decide I want more, so I initiate it. I put his hand on my breast or wrap my legs around him and press my hips into his. Sometimes I'll pull at his clothes. But then, once we're naked, he does all the work. He's always on top, kissing me and touching me. I kiss him back and wrap my arms around him, and sometimes my legs, but I mostly just lay there, only moving enough to match the rhythm he sets. Twice, he's put his mouth on me, between my legs, and kissed until I screamed his name. He always touches me before he enters me, to make sure I'm ready, and he often touches me _during_ , as well…which is the most amazing thing I've ever felt in my life. When I feel Peeta, both inside and outside of me, pushing and rubbing just so, I feel like I'm going to go crazy - in the best way imaginable.

I've never reached down to touch him, not once, and never even considered putting my mouth on him. I'm still getting used to this. It's too soon for me to change anything…even though I feel selfish. I feel like I should try harder to make it nice for him. To be a more enthusiastic participant.

I hear the front door slam shut and my tears spill over. _Great_. Now he's gone away mad and I won't see him until this evening and even then I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say to make things right. After a period of silent crying, I clean and bandage my wound, then limp into the kitchen, using the walls for support. The breakfast Peeta was making still sits on the stove, untouched. I guess he was too angry to stay, or I made him too upset to eat.

I force down as much of it as I can and store the rest in the fridge. I make my way into the living room and lay down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I remember when I used to get mad at Peeta or snap at him and he wouldn't get mad back. Before the Games, when I pushed him and his hands got cut, he didn't seem as angry as he did today. When I was snappy toward him before the Quell, for laughing about my stupid purity, he showed no anger at all, never told me I was being unreasonable. I guess back then, he thought I was so wonderful that he was willing to put up with more from me. Now, even though he's mostly recovered from the hijacking (as recovered as he'll ever be, I assume), he seems to know better. Seems fully aware that I don't deserve to be treated like a queen or goddess or whatever.

I spend the day doing several meaningless little tasks. Cleaning, reading, laundry. I am determined not to be confined to sitting down all day, in spite of my injury, so I have to do a lot of hopping around and move very slowly. I sit outside, on my back porch, for a while in the late afternoon. It's boring, but I don't have the stamina to do anything else by this point. Around the time Peeta's supposed to get home, I lay down on the couch. After half an hour I start to worry that he isn't coming, that he'll go back to his house tonight. I tell myself he'd never do that; he needs me to sleep as much as I need him. I close my eyes and manage to doze until I hear the front door creak open, then close gently. Peeta comes into the living room and I look up at him through bleary eyes, smiling tiredly.

"You're here," I say, reaching both arms up.

Peeta's face softens and he smiles back at me, then sits on the edge of the couch and leans forward to hug me.

Without really thinking, I say, "You're late."

He pulls back, sitting up, and stares down at me. He tucks a few stray hairs behind my ear and says, "I was at the bakery. Just cleaning and getting everything organized."

"Oh." I know he spent today at the bakery so his answer doesn't really tell me anything. But I can barely keep my eyes open so I don't question him further. I can feel myself drifting off and am only vaguely aware as Peeta slides his arms under me, lifts and carries me up to bed. He tucks me in and then I feel the bed shift as he stands up. "Wait," I say, reaching out for him, suddenly feeling more awake. "Stay with me, please." It's only evening, way too early for bed. I bet Peeta isn't tired enough to sleep, but still he climbs in and holds me. I press my forehead against his neck and slide my leg over his torso so it's resting on his stomach. It's easy to drift off again, now that we're wrapped together and he's making me feel safe.

#

When I wake up, Peeta's gone. I look at the bedside clock and see that it's only ten at night. I sigh, annoyed that I haven't slept longer. I close my eyes and decide that if I'm still awake in five minutes, I'll go looking for him. He's probably just downstairs painting. But, surprisingly, I am able to fall asleep again. This time I don't wake up until morning, and Peeta is back. He's laying on his side and has an arm draped over my stomach.

I turn my head so our faces are only inches apart. My eyes travel over him and I feel lucky - so lucky that he's here. I nearly lost him so many times, but didn't. And yesterday…he didn't really even stay mad at me after he got home. I guess because he loves me too much.

Without thinking, I lift my head and lean in, placing a kiss on his cheek. Peeta stirs a little, but doesn't wake up. I can't resist kissing him again, this time lower on his face. He inhales a little sharply and I think now I've woken him. My third kiss lands on his jaw, and then I place a couple on his neck as his arms encircle me. One hand slides up to twine in my hair as he whispers, "Good morning." I can hear a smile in his voice.

I'm smiling, too. I return his embrace and nuzzle against his neck, then place a kiss on his earlobe. I slide my hand under his shirt and run it up and down his back. We stay like this for a while - just hugging and caressing one another. I'm starting to get that feeling I normally only get at night while we're kissing. I'm just about to move to pull his shirt off when Peeta's hand finds mine.

He laces our fingers together and leans away from me so we can look into each other's eyes. With a small smile he says, "I'll go downstairs, okay?"

Whenever we wake up at the same time, he offers to have his shower in the downstairs bathroom. This is what's happening now. He'll shower down there, I'll shower up here and then we'll meet in the kitchen for breakfast. It's Saturday, I realize, so he won't be going to the bakery today. I probably should have let him sleep in.

Instead of telling him what I really want, I simply nod. He places a quick, closed-mouth kiss on my lips, then pulls away from me, gets some clothes, and leaves the room.

I sit up in bed and hug my knees to my chest. Did he not know what I wanted? Maybe not. We've never done _that_ \- never even come close - in the light of day. Or maybe he is still a little upset with me and wasn't interested. I realize I'm shaking my head slightly at this thought, even though it could very well be true.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Thanks so much to those who reviewed chapter one. Your responses mean a lot to me.

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With a sigh, I climb out of bed. My leg feels surprisingly better but a dull ache lingers so I make sure to favor it as I neaten the covers, and then get some clean clothes of my own. While I run my soapy hands over myself in the shower, I can't help wondering why Peeta and I don't shower together. It suddenly seems so stupid that he always goes downstairs so we'll each be alone. He's kissed or touched almost every inch of my body, yet never even seen it in a well-lit room.

For a while, I was glad to keep our _activities_ confined to the bedroom at night, but now I think I'm ready to try something new. I want to see him better. I want it to be more…fun. Not just something we do to relax or comfort each other, but something we both really want to savor.

I hurry up and rinse my hair, then quickly brush it out and braid it back. Once I'm dressed, I make my way downstairs and find Peeta in the kitchen, setting ingredients on the counter for breakfast.

"Can we talk?" I ask.

He turns around and sees me in the doorway of the kitchen. "Sure. Um…should I put this stuff away?"

I nod my head, then make my way to the living room, where I sit on the couch. I turn so my back is against the arm of it, shoulder touching its back. Moments later, Peeta comes and sits down, facing me in a similar way. "Are you okay?"

I nod, trying to decide exactly what I need to say. I don't want him to worry though, so I reach out and take his hand, holding it tightly with both of mine. I think about how good this hand can make me feel; how it knows exactly which ways to touch me. "I wanted to say," I begin, "that I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. For snapping at you when you were trying to help me."

Peeta smiles a little. "It's okay. You were tired and hurt. I don't blame you for being irritable. And I got mad first, anyway."

"You had a right to be mad. What I did was…stupid. I could have gotten hurt even worse. I'd be upset if you did something reckless like that." _But I know you wouldn't_.

Peeta's gaze softens and his smile grows. "I'm glad you understand." Quietly, he adds, "I can't lose you."

I nod. "I can't lose you, either." I drop his hand and slide my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck as I scoot closer to him. But before I can kiss him, he speaks.

"It reminded me of when I first came home."

I loosen my hold, letting my palms rest on his shoulders. "What do you mean?"

Tentatively, Peeta moves to hold me around my waist. "You didn't seem to care about yourself. About eating or sleeping enough. And…" He bites his lip, averting his eyes from mine.

"What?" I ask.

"You didn't seem to care that I was here. That you still have me. For a while after I came back from the Capitol, I didn't think you even wanted me here."

"I didn't care about anything then," I admit. "I couldn't."

Peeta nods. "I understand that. I mean, I kind of felt that way too, for a while. But yesterday, you seemed like you did back _then_ , and it just…it hurt."

Tears form in my eyes. Even though it pains me to hear this, I'm glad we're talking about it. I wasn't exactly kind, or even responsive to him for a while after he planted the primroses. But he's helped me get so much better, as I hope I've done for him. I can understand why he would be sad and disappointed to see me seemingly revert to that bad time for us. But I haven't. It was just a bad day.

"Please don't cry," Peeta says softly, staring at me with worried eyes.

I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head, blinking the tears away. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way." Before he can answer, I lean forward and press my lips to his. After a moment, I tilt my head further to the side and push my tongue against the seam between his lips. He instantly parts them for me and pulls me closer.

I run one hand through his hair and cup his jaw with the other as we taste and explore each other. That warm, pleasant ache starts to build in me and I think Peeta's feeling it, too. But before this goes any further, I have to say one more thing. I pull away abruptly and watch Peeta's eyes pop open. He looks taken aback as his gaze flickers around my face, lingering on my lips.

"Peeta," I say, causing his eyes to lift to mine. I open my mouth, but can't quite get the words out while he's looking at me like this. So I lean forward, placing a trail of kisses along his jaw and neck as he holds me snugly in return. When my lips are right by his ear I whisper, "I love you." He tenses in my arms, no doubt from surprise. This is the first time I've ever said those words to him, and I feel like they're long overdue. I kiss his cheek before adding, "I love you so much…it scares me sometimes." _Because_ _I always seem to lose the people I love._

Peeta pulls back to look at me, clearly filled with awe. His lips are parted slightly, his eyes wide, almost incredulous. He licks his lips then says, "I love you, too." He kisses me briefly. "You know I love you." Another, longer kiss, and this time it's a real struggle to pull back.

"Let's go upstairs," I say.

I expect Peeta to stand up, maybe take my hand and lead me up to our bedroom, but instead he pulls me onto his lap so I'm straddling him, wraps his arms tightly around me, and then stands. Honestly, I'm relieved, since I'm still injured and we'll probably move quicker this way. I hold tightly to him, trying to make myself easy to carry, and rest my head on his shoulder, smiling at the feel his arousal growing against me.

He gets us up the stairs and into the bedroom in probably a minute, but it seems to take far too long for my back to hit the bed. We kiss again, now with him leaning over me. But I remind myself that I want this time to be different. As different as I can make it.

So I shift us, pushing Peeta onto his back and moving so that I'm perched over his erection. I rub against him and he groans, sliding his hands up to cup my breasts. I can barely feel him through my bra, so I sit up, breaking our kiss, and reach up the back of my shirt to unhook it. Teasingly, I slip my arms out of the straps and toss it to the floor, but keep my tank top on. Peeta smiles roguishly, setting me on fire. I lean forward to kiss him again and continue moving against him. His hands return to my breasts, now only separated from them by the thin material of my shirt. He massages them with just the right amount of pressure, brushing his thumbs over the hardened tips and causing pleasure to shoot through my body, increasing the need I feel between my legs.

He's making it hard to concentrate on the first part of my plan. In this moment, I want nothing more than to pull our clothes off and sink down on him. I want to ride him fast and hard…but I manage to remember that that would end this too quickly.

I push his hands off me and sit up, so we're no longer kissing. I try to catch my breath and rein in my need. But Peeta's hands, which have now wrapped around my hips and are continually rocking me against him, are not helping.

"Wait," I say with a smile.

Peeta's lustful expression wavers. "Why?"

I kiss him briefly. "You're making it hard for me to think." Hard for me to be unselfish.

Before he can answer, I move off him, still favoring my ankle and ignoring a couple twinges of discomfort. I unbutton and unzip his pants, and Peeta looks relieved that I'm not putting a stop to what we're doing, but still unsure about what's going to happen next. He helps me pull his pants and undershorts off, then sits up so I can get his shirt over his head. I stare down at him and can't help smiling. The scars and his leg hardly even register; he's beautiful to me. Strong and perfect.

My gaze reaches Peeta's face and he looks a little uneasy about being completely naked, while I've still got my shirt and pants on. I mouth the words _love you_ and he seems to relax, even smiling at me a little.

I run my hands over his chest and he closes his eyes, seemingly to better concentrate on my touch. I kiss and suck at his neck, then kiss my way down his chest. When my mouth reaches his lower stomach, and I run a hand along the line of downy blond hair, he says my name.

Lifting my head, I see that his eyes are open again. Peeta leans up on his elbows and takes a quick breath in. "What are you…?"

I smile coyly at him. "What do you think?"

"You don't have to…I mean, not because of our"- he clears his throat - "our fight."

I shake my head slowly. "I _want_ to, Peeta. I want to make you feel good."

He's looking at me with wonder, like I'm too good to be true. "Really?"

Instead of answering, I dip my head down and lick him, from base to tip. A strangled moan comes from his mouth and I feel my lips spread into a grin. I love that sound. Glancing up, I see that Peeta's face is flushed even more now and he's panting lightly.

"Lay back," I say softly.

He nods slightly and straightens his arms, letting his head return to the pillow. I slide a leg over his so I'm straddling him, but resting my weight mostly on my left knee. I lean my head back down and lick him again, causing a different – less shocked sounding – noise this time.

I've never done this before, but it shouldn't be hard to figure out what he'll like. A few times, when he's been inside me, I've experimented with squeezing myself around him and this always makes him groan and start to move faster. Keeping this in mind, I lick my lips and take as much of him as I can into my mouth. My hands attend to the sensitive parts of him that don't fit in my mouth and he writhes beneath me. I would smile if I could.

Careful to keep my teeth away from his soft skin, I start to suck. Gently at first, then harder. Clearly, he likes this. He seems to be struggling to breathe, and he's started thrusting lightly against me. I raise my head up, then slide it back down, imitating the way he moves in and out of me at night, and continue sucking. I can tell Peeta has sat up now, and his hands reach down to cup my head and aid my movements as he groans and gasps above me. I love this, love making him feel like this. I never thought pleasuring him in this way would be so thrilling for me. I'm still burning to take him inside me, between my legs, but don't mind waiting a little. Right now, I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing.

After a while, he tells me he's getting close, and distractedly tries to push at my shoulders so I'll let up with my mouth before he finishes, but I don't stop just yet. I suck harder for a few moments and then, at what I judge to be the last second, lift my head. With both hands, I do my best to maintain the same kind of pressure I was causing with my mouth as he shudders, groaning, and his whole body tenses before he lays back down.

I only let up when the pulsing does. Gently, I release my hold on him and wipe the back of my hand over my lips, then surreptitiously grab a couple tissues to clean us both up, before I crawl up the bed and lay on my side, facing Peeta. His head is on the pillow, his eyes closed. If his chest weren't rising and falling noticeably, I might be worried about how still he is. That something they did to him in the Capitol weakened his heart and now he can't handle such intense feelings - even good ones.

But I know he's fine. I run a hand over his chest and he opens his eyes, turning to face me and cup a hand over my jaw. "You're -" he starts, then doesn't seem to know what to say.

"Good?" I offer.

Peeta laughs a little. "Unbelievable." He kisses me briefly, then lays back down, still not yet recovered I guess. With a smile, he adds, "Amazing."

I smile back, and lean in to rest my head on his chest. After a minute or so, he says, "What about you? I can -"

I lift my head to look at him, and interrupt him by saying, "Just let me know when you're ready for more." I'm dying for some attention, but want to let him bask in this a little longer. I try to be satisfied with squeezing my thighs together and telling myself that the longer I wait, the better it will eventually feel.

He nods and I lay my head back down. After a couple more minutes, Peeta shifts us, so I'm on my back and he's leaning on his side next to me. He pushes my shirt up and starts caressing and kissing my breasts, making me squirm and sigh. It's satisfying in a way, to finally feel him touching my bare skin but mostly I'm just getting more impatient. I reach down to unbutton my pants myself and together we make quick work of pulling my clothes off and tossing them to the floor.

Peeta's leg moves between mine, nudging them apart, but then the skin on his thigh rubs against me just _so_ and I go wild. A high-pitched, desperate sound escapes my mouth and my body seems to have a mind of its own as my hands grip his lower back, to hold him in place, and my hips thrust up against his leg. I'm so wound up that I actually come from this…and surprisingly fast. My muscles relax slightly but that was barely satisfying. I need more.

Peeta releases my nipple from his mouth with an audible pop and grins down at me. "Really?" he asks good naturedly.

"It's your fault," I say, only pretending to be defensive.

Still smiling, Peeta moves so he's sitting between my legs. I lean on my elbows, watching him take his erection in hand and absentmindedly stroke it a little. I swear I can feel an additional surge of wetness from this sight and my hips start shifting toward him of their own accord.

Finally, _finally_ , he slips inside me and the relief is immense. I wonder if I'll ever be able to get used to this. Maybe not. Maybe some things are too good to ever grow accustomed to, or take for granted. The usual thoughts flicker through my head in quick succession, grounding me in this moment: _I'm with_ Peeta. _He loves me. He's mine and I'm his._ I know my body wanted him like this before my heart or head caught up and now that they're all on the same page I can't believe it took so long.

The feeling is so exquisite that I almost forget about my desire to try new things. Almost, but not quite…so in the midst of a kiss that has our mouths melded together, I manage to push on Peeta's shoulder in a way that makes him realize what I want. Together, we roll over so I'm sitting on him. I break the kiss and sit up straighter, somehow managing to remember to favor my injury. Using my bent left leg, mostly, and with my hands braced on Peeta's chest, I begin to rise up and sink back down. Slowly at first, then in a steady rhythm. I like this new position very much, like being the one in control. It definitely takes more work than having him on top but the exertion, and feeling like _I'm_ the one fucking _him_ , is incredibly arousing.

I steal a glance at Peeta's face and see that his eyes are heavy lidded as they stare at my bouncing breasts, and his mouth's partway open, tongue between his lips. I can't stop myself from quickening my pace, thinking only of my own pleasure, until I come again. With a soft cry I collapse forward onto his chest, too relaxed to do any more work at the moment.

Peeta is still rock hard inside me. His arms encircle me and he murmurs in my ear, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Oops," I say.

A light laugh rumbles through his chest and he sits us up, eliciting a gasp from me at the shift inside me. I'm pretty sensitive right now but the idea of pausing for even a few moments flies right out of my head. With more leverage now, Peeta's hands wrap around my hips and he starts raising and lowering me in his lap, rocking up against me as well. I lift my head to see his face and am shocked by the intensity in his blue eyes. I can't look away from him, can only stare back and relish this new level of intimacy. We have never looked directly at each other during sex before. I think he's wanted to but when I've felt his gaze seeking mine in the past, on those couple of occasions when there was a lot of moonlight in the room, I've always closed my eyes or pulled him closer and hidden my face against his neck.

Now, I rest my forehead against his until our pace speeds up, at which point I try to lean back a little but lose my balance, falling to the bed. Peeta, of course, follows me and we wind up in a more familiar position. His hands find mine, interlacing our fingers, and he pins them to the bed on each side of my head. I squeeze his hands in return, maintaining eye contact until he speeds up his thrusts even more and I can't handle this any longer. I cry out in unison with Peeta, arching my back and pressing my head into the bed as the climax crashes over us both. In these moments, my mind is beautifully blank. We are the only two people who exist – who have ever existed. My world is perfect.

Peeta somehow manages to maintain his fervent pace as we ride out the waves together, and then finally he collapses on top of me. I'm too numb to move or think of anything but the tiny spasms of pleasure that shoot through me as Peeta slowly pulls out, little by little, with each pulse of my inner walls. He winds up on his back beside me and the only sound in the room is of us both catching our breaths.

As the haze of bliss recedes, I reach my arms over my head and stretch from fingers to toes. I again become aware of my injury, of its dull ache. Of course Peeta and I were both careful to favor my ankle and shin but I'm still surprised at how little they've bothered me since we entered this room. I guess arousal can raise your pain threshold. Also, I think this was the very first time we've had simultaneous orgasms. Maybe Peeta was planning that all along and that's why he teased me a little about the two I had before he could catch up. But like I said, it's his fault.

My stomach starts rumbling and I glance over at the clock. Nine thirty? That means we've been up here for…what? An hour and a half? I can hardly believe that. The time flew by.

Peeta rolls onto his side, propping his head up so he can look down at me. His left hand strokes my stomach as he smiles lazily. "Hungry?"

"No," I lie, and he laughs lightly, leaning in to kiss me again. Another rumble annoys me and I wrap my arms around Peeta's neck, holding him close. I know we'll have to go downstairs eventually but I'm in no hurry whatsoever. Not when he's kissing me like this: so sweetly, and so full of the promise of more good things to come.

Our altercation yesterday, which now seems so irrelevant, scared me at the time. Like Peeta, I was afraid it might be a setback for us but now I feel so much closer to him than ever before. It's funny how things work out sometimes. How something bad can lead to something good. Great, even.

* * *

 **AN:** The end. Thanks for reading.


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